Tyler Green
Art-focused Journalism by Tyler Green

Tyler Green Modern Art Notes

Archive for June, 2010

Film directors want you to see them as patriotic

This week a fluff show opens at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Titled “Telling Stories,” it features Norman Rockwell illustrations from the private collections of two Hollywood filmmakers, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. As SAAM director Betsy Broun told MAN in March (part one and part two), the two filmmakers and not the museum’s curators came up with the idea for the show. The two men want to be seen as patriots in the Rockwell mode, and this is one way to become that.

Back in April I examined why the New Museum’s fluffing of a trustee was inappropriate. Some of the same reasons apply here. I’ll have more once the show is on view.

Mark Rothko’s black canvases in the light

To best see the spectacular gallery of seven Mark Rothko ‘black paintings’ in the Tower Gallery at the National Gallery of Art, you need to visit thrice. You should visit once when it is overcast. You should visit once on an all-blue-sky, sunny day. But my favorite way to enjoy this little Rothko treat when there is a mix of clouds and sun in the sky, when the wind is blowing and when the light levels are constantly changing. [Image: Installation shot of No. 6 (?), No. 2, No. 8 and No. 4. Photos by Rob Shelley, courtesy NGA.]

Unlike most of the NGA East Building’s galleries, the tower gallery is capped by a big skylight. As a result, a curator has the option of bathing whatever s/he hangs there with lots of light. For years, NGA curators installed Matisse’s cutouts in the massive space. Not long ago NGA curator Harry Cooper moved the Matisses and opened up the skylights. The result has been the creation of the best only good gallery space in the East Building. Until Jan. 2, the result is possibly the best single gallery in America, an installation of seven of Rothko’s 1964 ‘black paintings.’ A side-gallery features other Rothko works — from a range of periods — that include black.

A couple weeks ago I noticed that the weather was likely to be a mix of sun and clouds, so I cleared my afternoon and made a beeline for the NGA. Upon reaching the tower, I sat on a bench to allow my eyes to adjust to the light level — there were no overhead lights on — and to soak in the space. While the spaces downstairs were crowded with visitors, up here it was quiet, really quiet.

After my eyes adjusted, I started walking up to each painting, examining it. As the sun went behind the clouds here and there, my eyes had to adjust to the dark paintings in front of me, an involuntary adjustment that I could actually feel. I had to ‘get used’ to a painting again every time I looked down at the off-white of my notebook and then back up at a painting. Just as a Doug Wheeler or a Robert Irwin seems to adjust your sense of sight as you look at it, so too these Rothkos.

What I saw was how different these paintings are, how the art historical tendency to group paintings as ‘black paintings,’ is a convenient fiction. Untitled features a matte grey background with a slightly more reflective brown surface than the other paintings. No. 5 is a black square on a slate color, only it’s a particularly brushy painting. No. 4 features a black rectangle on a brownish-burgundy ground. And No. 6 (?) features a purple ground, not much black at all. The squares or rectangles are all applied to ‘their bases’ differently: Sometimes they’re brushed on, sometimes smudged. Sometimes there’s a clear delineation between rectangle and base, sometimes it’s fuzzy-hazy. [The only one that photographs even a teeny-bit decently is No. 7, which is at right.]

At least that’s what you see when you’re up close. From a distance, they really seem black. If a visitor just pops into the gallery, that’s what they’ll be. But like Irwins or Wheelers, the more time you spend with them, the more colors and nuances you see. Sometimes when I spend an hour or more with just seven paintings, I speed up as I reach the last couple paintings. Here, I realized the Rothkos were giving me more and more with each painting, more points of comparison and difference. The last two paintings I spent time with here were the two I spent the longest with. At Untitled (No. 8) I was fascinated by a line of accumulated brush hairs at the bottom of the black rectangle. There are a few stray brush hairs throughout the painting as there are in most of these 1964 canvases, but there’s nothing like this anywhere else in this painting or in the gallery. They don’t look like they were a product of brushwork, but like they were placed there intentionally. It’s the kind of thing that’s a little bit difficult to see in a gallery lit only by electricity. But in the NGA’s tower, every detail in these quiet Rothkos shouts out.

Robert Rauschenberg on Yves Klein

As I walked through the Yves Klein retrospective at the Hirshhorn a couple weeks ago, I found myself thinking about Robert Rauschenberg.

Here’s why: In the early 1970s Rauschenberg made one of the weirdest bodies of work in contemporary art: The rarely seen cardboards. They were the product of Rauschenberg’s apparently imposing a rule and a methodology upon himself: After surveying the international contemporary art scene, Rauschenberg decided to make work about other artists and their work — except he decided that he would limit his materials to (almost entirely) cardboard.

Few — if any — of Rauschenberg’s cardboards are in museum collections. In 2007 the Menil presented a gem of an under-the-radar show on the series, a true art history geek’s show. One of my favorite works in the Menil’s show was this work, a cardboard that Rauschenberg made about Yves Klein. On the occasion of the Hirshhorn’s show, it’s worth a look — and a chuckle.

Related: I realize that the Hirshhorn is mostly interested in chucking away its restricted-acquisitions funds on ‘acquiring a bookstore,’ but the Rauschenberg referenced above would be a great fit for the Hirshhorn’s collection, especially because the museum owns this fantastic Klein.

Muybridge’s cloud(s)

MAN on Muybridge: I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Weston Naef. Part one. Part two. Part three. Q&A with Corcoran and exhibition curator Philip Brookman part one, part two. Muybridge & Watkins: In which I play detective.

I’m still amazed that Corcoran curator Philip Brookman’s Eadweard Muybridge retrospective is the first career-length survey of the artist. As Brookman said yesterday, it gives both scholars and visitors the opportunity to discover and to re-examine Muybridge’s oeuvre.

A couple weeks ago I walked through the show with Brookman and we talked about why he thinks Muybridge did or didn’t make what. Brookman pointed out these pictures as pictures that simply have to be Muybridges. These three are in three different galleries of the show. Look carefully at the cloud in the top center of each picture. Either the same cloud miraculously recurred in nature thrice, or Muybridge put it there. (And yes, Muybridge was known for altering the skies of pictures he printed.)

In her catalogue essay, Rebecca Solnit says this about Muybridge’s clouds: “Early in his career, Muybridge produced stereoscopic studies of trees and clouds, each a series of several cards. It is unlikely that they would have appealed to the average person looking for something to view through their parlor stereo viewer. Instead they seem to have been intended for artists and to have been made in much the same way as artists themselves made sketches and studies to try to understand a phenomenon and describe its variations.” I don’t know if the cloud in the three images here came from the early works that Solnit references (I looked through the cloud images in the 2,000-Muybridge-labeled-images-strong Calisphere archive and nada), but I like the idea that Muybridge is using pictures of clouds the way a painter uses a successful sketch.

[Images, top to bottom: Valley of the Yosemite, from Mariposa Trail, No. 3, 1872. Collection of the American Geographical Society Library, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries. City Hall Under Construction, 1873. Collection of the California History Section, California State Library. Pigeon Point Lighthouse, 1873. Collection of the California History Section, California State Library.]

Related: Muybridge’s Cloud’s Rest, Valley of the Yosemite, No. 40 without the cloud above, via Calisphere. The same picture with the cloud, unknown collection (readers?).

Q&A with Philip Brookman, part two

More in MAN’s weeklong series: I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Weston Naef. Part one. Part two. Part three. This Q&A with Corcoran and exhibition curator Philip Brookman is continued from here.

MAN: Weston Naef pointed out to me that it’s possible that Muybridge and Watkins could have met each other in New York in 1850 or 1851 too.

Philip Brookman: We know Eadweard Muybridge meets [portrait photographer] Silas Selleck in New York City and Selleck may have been the operator in Matthew Brady’s studio for the portraits that become very well known later, that are shown at the great exhibition in London in 1851. He wins an award and establishes American photography in Europe. So it’s possible that Selleck, who knows Brady, may well have been a good connection for Muybridge to meet other photographers. The Vance work is shown in Europe early on, so Muybridge may have met Vance through Selleck. When Muybridge moved to San Francisco in 1855, he opens a bookstore on Montgomery Street next door to Vance’s studio, so he knows Vance, who’s a really important influence on Watkins too.

There are a lot of connections and my sense photography world couldn’t have been that big. They would have all known each other. [Image: Eadweard Muybridge, Tenaya Canyon. Valley of the Yosemite. From Union Point. No. 35, 1872. Collection of the National Gallery of Art.]

MAN: What is the process of doing this show and to have these kinds of art historical debates pop up like for you? Is it fun? Is it a pain to be questioned? Is it intellectually invigorating?

PB: I think it’s fascinating. In fact, there’s just so much we don’t know about all this stuff and for me the real frustration is not having the time to sit down and put all the pieces together. That takes a tremendous amount of time.

What I think is that I never really knew Muybridge until the show was on the wall. You do all this research and you look at all this stuff and you have this investigation in your head and on your computer, but you also don’t have it in your head because no one’s done it before. When you’re a curator you don’t really have a show until you look at it all in one place, on the walls. By that point all your research and writing is done and you think, ‘Hmmm. Maybe it’s different [from what we all originally thought]. It’s always a process of accumulating all this information. My frustration is not having the time as a scholar to really do all the research. I have a deadline to get the work, a show on the walls. If you’re an academic you can work for 20 years on this and publish, and great. My project was to get an exhibition on the wall, which I did.

My goal in making the exhibition was simply for the first time to make a kind of retrospective view of Muybridge, to put the whole thing together so that we can simply look at it and so all these questions can arise. How does Muybridge get from 1867, these very first pictures, to ‘animal locomotion’ in 1887? And that’s amazing to me, that having done all this research it’s only 20 years, 1867 to 1887 that makes up Muybridge’s professional career as a photographer, during which he makes pictures that we know are made by Muybridge – or, well, maybe that we don’t know! I attribute them to Muybridge, but maybe not? Maybe he got them from Watkins, which means he put his name on the [stereographic] cards. For me, I think with the ‘Helios’ signature, that means he made them.

In 1867 Muybridge prints a brochure that’s in the show. It’s about his Yosemite series, with reviews of it. He uses his name.

MAN: On the stereograph cards and in other places, Muybridge doesn’t claim authorship of the images by saying “by Muybridge.” Instead he says “illustrated by” and such. Why do you think he uses that locution?

PB: That’s because ‘Helios’ took them. If you look at the reviews in the papers [of the time], it says a new photographer, ‘Helios,’ has come to us, making pictures that are far superior to anything ever seen. Muybridge, the great publicist, has planted the pictures in the press offices around the country and has gotten people to write reviews. Then if you look at his scrapbook,  it’s really fascinating. He keeps all these newspaper articles and they’re all pasted into the scrapbook. There are the key articles about the great Muybridge photos of Yosemite in 1867 and in Yosemite in 1872.

The original scrapbook is in the Kingston Museum in Kingston-upon-Thames in England. Muybridge kept it his whole life. He probably made the actual album later, but began pasting stuff together in the 1870s and he kept it up, really through ‘animal locomotion,’ where he puts in the reviews and articles about his career. Sure, he leaves out a lot: The murder [of his wife’s lover], the bad stuff.

MAN: I suppose that one of the things these conversations is pointing out is how much research and scholarship remains to be done on these two huge figures of American and photography history.

PB: We’ve all talked about the need for more study in this area, yes. We’ve talked about the need to get together and talk about all these issues with the idea that there are all these photographs and nobody knows much about them. There’s very little primary reference material about any of them, Muybridge included. Basically we need time and money. It’s a project to put all this together, who took all these pictures and why is it that Watkins, Weed, Muybridge and others are standing at the same point, taking the same picture over a decade apart? And why do those pictures appear in different formats and different places in different albums?

MAN: There’s a lot of period material that hasn’t been examined then?

PB: All we really have to go on is the pictures and bits of evidence of when they worked together. Yes, there may be a lot more out there, newspaper articles, pictures, sure, newspaper articles that talked about the two of them together, from the 1850s on. Now that it’s searchable and more and more searchable thanks to technology, that makes it easier.

One of the sources we do have, that has been examined is a set of albums that were Muybridge’s studio albums. They were created for Bradley & Rulofson, for the sale of Muybridge’s pictures. In those albums there are laid out, in reasonably clear order, half-stereo images of all Muybridge’s stereos and there are hundreds and thousands of pictures in these albums. Some of the albums have larger images, full-plate images, and Muybridge landscape stuff, especially from the Bay Area, from California, from the railroads and organized by series. There are also pages of clouds that Muybridge took and put in the skies of many of his pictures. That really is the holy grail of Muybridge’s early work. There is a publication that Bradley & Rulofson put out in 1872 when they took on Muybridge’s work which is the catalogue of – and I’m paraphrasing here – ‘Views of Yosemite and the West by Eadweard Muybridge.’ It lists in that catalogue, numbered, all Muybridge’s numbers, all of his stereos and it’s not all but many of his full-plate views, cabinet-card-sized pictures and mammoth plate pictures. That’s how I attribute Muybridge’s pictures, and that’s a primary reference.

MAN Q&A with Muybridge curator Philip Brookman

More in MAN’s weeklong series: I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Weston Naef. Part one. Part two. Part three.

Philip Brookman is the director of curatorial affairs of the Corcoran Gallery of Art and the curator of “Helios: Eadweard Muybridge in a Time of Change.” His recent exhibitions include “Sally Mann: What Remains,” “Robert Frank: London/Wales,” “Emmet Gowin: Changing the Earth,” “Media/Metaphor: The 46th Biennial Exhibition,” and “Half Past Autumn: The Art of Gordon Parks.” [Image: Eadweard Muybridge, Falls of the Yosemite, From Glacier Rock. (Great Grizzly Bear). 2600 feet fall. No. 36, 1872. Collection of The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.]

MAN: Could Eadweard Muybridge have been the publisher of these stereographs and other, later works instead of the photographer?

Philip Brookman: I think from what I’ve seen, and knowing what I know about Muybridge — and I’m not an expert on [Carleton] Watkins by any means and Weston [Naef] is – I think yes, Muybridge published pictures by other people. Some by Watkins, potentially, but I think he was also a photographer and a significant photographer.

Muybridge is building a catalog and when he first comes back to the United States from England in 1866 or 1867. He’s a photographer. He represents himself as a photographer and he opens a studio and he’s got to very quickly build a catalogue [of images he can sell]. In the ensuing years 1867, 1868, 1869, he may well have purchased pictures from other photographers to add to his catalogue. But, I think he’s definitely taking his own pictures because many of them have his mark on them.

Also, the compositions are unique, uniquely Muybridge. His interest in the manipulation of imagery is uniquely Muybridge. [Ed. -- More on this on MAN tomorrow.] Coming from French photography and British photography and interest in the atmosphere and clouds and pointing your camera into the sun, we see Muybridge  using devices that he invented so that he can shade the sky while making an image. He’s also making the sky visible. All these innovations are uniquely Muybridge. Watkins did it less, he was less interested in the manipulated image. Watkins was more interested in a more pure landscape image, compositionally and technically. I think it’s likely Muybridge acquired pictures from other photographers as well.

In terms of [Muybridge] photographing the moon, for example, you see a crescent moon. They’re just pasted in. Those pictures are taken in the daytime and the moon is pasted in when Muybridge is in the darkroom or ‘drawn in’ or however he’d do it. He’s making day-for-night images, again to create things that would be more dramatic.

You know, those are not a California thing. Go to Kingston where Muybridge grew up and you see those clouds. [Kingston-upon-Thames is just outside London. Today it is the first London suburb after Wimbledon.]

MAN: In your catalogue essay you argue that Muybridge must have learned photography before his second trip to the United States, no later than his trip to England between 1860 and 1866 or so. Weston argues that there’s no evidence of any kind – not pictures, not membership in British camera clubs, not mention of Muybridge participating in photography exhibitions in London. If Muybridge did not learn photography in London in those years, could he have made the stereographs and the early work in the show, the stereographs, the work attributed to him?

PB: No. He had to have learned photography, the technical side of photography before he came back to the United States. I believe — and I have no evidence — I believe Muybridge did photography in England when he was there in some way or another and he improved his technique.

I also wonder: Does Muybridge actually learn photography before he goes back to England [in 1860], in San Francisco? He’s interested in photography then. He’s around a lot of photographers, Watkins and so on.

MAN: Right, and we know Watkins and Muybridge were acquainted and probably close professional associates or even friends. Weston points out that there is a letter that Carleton Watkins wrote to a collector man named Laurencil in 1859 that instructs the collector to pay money owed to Watkins to either Watkins or Muybridge, because the collector had purchased Watkins’ images out of a show at Muybridge’s gallery or store or whatever the proper term would be.

PB: Yes, that’s a really interesting discovery: That Muybridge knew Watkins. We know Muybridge knows Watkins in 1860 and as early as 1858 and 1859. Muybridge’s studio is close to Watkins’ studio. They must have known each other, had dialogues and talked photography. It’s possible Muybridge lent Watkins money.

So it’s all interesting, but there’s very little evidence for any of this. So why not this: Muybridge learns photography from Watkins or other photographers. He takes up photography as an amateur. He’s not a professional, but he just learns. We know Muybridge wanted to travel to Yosemite before he goes back England in 1860. He wanted to go there. There’s no evidence he did, but it’s possible he did. He may have gone with Watkins, who was in Yosemite in 1861 and earlier. So it’s possible that Muybridge learns photography before he goes back to England. I think he would have — in England — perfected his technical understanding of photography and learned to make pictures in the way he does when he comes back to San Francisco. He is a photographer in 1867 and he makes pictures that are very adept.

MAN: Regarding that lack of images and so on attributed to Muybridge from his time in London: Could he have made things there or had equipment there and brought it halfway around the world to San Francisco? Or was that just too much hauling stuff around for the 1860s?

PB: It would have been possible for him to do that, to bring pictures back, and he could have brought equipment back too. Muybridge knew early on that the best cameras and lenses were from England and he was importing equipment.

MAN: Muybridge’s signature, his nom de plume, his brand, his whatever-I-should-call-it, ‘Helios’ disappears from use after 1872. Do we, do you have any explanation as to why?

PB: He uses it once after 1872, in 1880. That’s in the Johnson album that’s in the show. Muybridge was commissioned to photograph a house and property for a wealthy San Francisco man named Robert Johnson and his wife Kate. There’s a little section where he signs his work ‘Helios’ again. Who knows why.

Regarding that signature, it’s my theory — and it’s just simply a theory based on my understanding of Muybridge and reading others, whether [Robert Bartlett] Haas or [Gordon] Hendricks or [Rebecca] Solnit — I think that when Muybridge comes back to San Francisco he is not confident of his ability as an artist, and so he establishes a kind of pseudonym, a pen name for the artist and thus the artist is ‘Helios.’ Everything he writes or represents about his studio when he first arrives is ‘Helios.’ He’s arrived and his work is available through Eadweard Muybridge, who is known as a bookseller. So I think it’s really he separates his persona as an artist form his business. ‘Helios’ is the artist and Muybridge is the businessman, the seller of the photographs.

Why he does it is that he’s already changed his name several times. He changes his name a number of times. You think about him as early as 1851, the idea of a young man leaving England and traveling to New York City and later to San Francisco, it’s going to the end of the earth. You test yourself as someone new. So changing your name would be part of that.

Part two will follow early this afternoon.

A MAN Q&A: Weston Naef on Muybridge, part three

Continued from Monday and this morning: I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Weston Naef. Part one. Part two.

MAN: So it sounds to me like you’re coming close to saying that all of the work attributed to Eadweard Muybridge before about 1872ish ought to be re-examined with other attributions in mind, especially Watkins? Or is that off by a little bit?

WN: Well, 1872 is the year we know that Muybridge had sufficient mastery of photography to have created the 51 mammoth plate pictures that bear his name.  It appears that Muybridge was still learning the elements of photography between 1868 and 1871.  To illustrate this, well, let’s return to the 1867 half-plates that are on ‘wall three’ in the Corcoran’s exhibition.

Wall three has several pictures that have the word ‘Helios’ inscribed in plates made with a camera that exposed negatives about 5.5 by 8.5 inches. The word ‘Helios’ is inscribed in these, but the puzzling thing is that the half-plate negatives are very uneven [quality-wise]. They are clumsy by comparison to the stereographs with “Helios”  dated in the exhibition labels to the year before or the year after, on the nearby walls. All but two of the half-plate negatives (as well as smaller copies of them published by Hittel in his Yosemite guidebook) are truly clumsy in their composition and their technique is imperfect.

Two of the half-plates on that wall, Piwyack, (Cataract of Stars;) “Vernal Fall,” 450 feet tall (4054), 1867 (above) and Summit of Third Fall of the Yosemite [4035], 1867 [both from the collection of Iris & B. Gerald Cantor Center for Visual Arts at Stanford University], are very closely related to Watkins pictures. One is the same viewpoint looking toward Vernal Fall with two trees to the right of center, a camera position that Watkins discovered first and made famous between 1859 and 1861. Coincidentally, both of these lack the word ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives and thus lack evidence of any association with Muybridge. It appears the maker of these half-plates was someone who had access to the only half-plate camera known to have been in Yosemite in 1867: That’s the Josiah Whitney survey camera, and it was known to have been  operated by two people: Carleton Watkins, who made 24 of the negatives that were published  in Whitney’s Yosemite Book in the form of mounted albumen prints. A handful of these were credited to a man named, “E. Harris,” and this mysterious E. Harris is the only other person known to have operated the Whitney half-plate camera in 1867.

This is admittedly speculative, but it leads to a ‘what if’ question, ‘What if Mr. E. Harris made the half-plate photographs that were eventually issued with the word ‘Helios’ inscribed on the negatives?’ In this case Muybridge could have acquired these following the method he had already proven, as we saw earlier when he was buying the rights to pre-existing patents, prints and books. He may now have entered into a new area of entrepreneurship of buying negatives. He’d then establish his ownership over them by inscribing ‘Helios,’ thus gaining clear title to the property. (This would not have been new: The way in which a publisher gained clear title to an engraving or lithograph was to put an identifying mark in the plate, block or stone.)

There’s another interesting note about the mysterious Mr. Harris: He was described in a letter between two of the Whitney survey party members as being a “scoundrel.” That leads to the further question: ‘Why E. Harris would have been considered a scoundrel?’ Maybe he’d done something quite inappropriate — such as using the Whitney Survey camera and then selling some of the negatives to Muybridge.

MAN: The next gallery in the Corcoran exhibition is pictures from Alaska?

WN: The Alaska pictures. Again, these have been dated to 1868. They are of superlative quality artistically and technically. So that brings us back to this nasty, imponderable question of when did Muybridge learn photography and how long did it take him to become a world-class master? If he arrived back in California from England in late 1867, and became a “publisher” of photographs as he said in his note to the Mercantile Society library directors (“I hope you will take a close look at the photographs I have published…”), would he have been in Alaska and made these pictures? Adding to this mystery is the fact that the geographer, George Davidson, who was Watkins’ friend and client, and a great believer in the utility of photography for his work, was in Alaska more than a year before Muybridge’s proposed travel there.  Given Davidson’s persistent use of photographs as evidence in other places, there’s no explanation for why Davidson would not have followed his own past methodology and included a photographer in his survey of Alaska as he had with his visits to other geographically notable places where he worked.

I don’t know. Muybridge being in Alaska in 1868 is problematic. Whoever made the pictures in Alaska that came to have the word ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives was a master of the highest order—they are spectacular compositionally and visually. When I say problematic, it all hinges on when and where Muybridge would have learned photography, and whether he could have acquired the negatives from their maker and marked them ‘Helios’, as he did with other works he published. And as I said before, there simply is no evidence Muybridge practiced photography when he was in England between 1860 and 1866. That is the only scenario that would open the possibility that he could have made pictures of the quality we see in the exhibition dated to 1867 and 1868.

MAN: On many of Muybridge’s stereographs we see the phrase, “illustrated by Muybridge.” Could that be a key, a hint a tip-off? As I recall, you noticed that “illustrated by Muybridge” seems to be the phrase he used on the questionable stereographs and so on.

WN: Yes, I drew attention to that point when you and I walked through the Corcoran’s exhibition because it is indeed peculiar. To use the word ‘illustrated’ is a kind of euphemism. It’s not the same as saying, “I made this.” It’s the kind of it’s the kind of phrase that relates more to the process of editing something or publishing something. Using the phrase “illustrated by” seems to be avoiding the issue of whether the statement, ‘I made this,’  is the truth. Previous to now, almost all experts who have studied Muybridge stereographs have interpreted the statement ‘illustrated by’ as ‘I made this.’ But I am now beginning to doubt whether this is the correct interpretation.

MAN: So what about the Corcoran’s room of Yosemite Valley mammoth plate pictures in particular? It’s an exceptionally stunning, striking, awe-inspiring gallery, full of oh-my-god-level pictures. All but one of them are presented as Muybridges.

WN: So, when it comes to the question of who made the mammoth-plate pictures that were published by Bradley & Rulofson in 1872, all of them are marked with letterpress on the mounts in such a way that Muybridge was saying unambiguously, “I made this,” and there are no stylistic or other reasons to doubt that assertion. Muybridge operated the camera for at least 50 of the 51 mammoth plate Yosemite pictures with the name of Bradley & Rulofson also on their mounts. The interesting question is whether Watkins could have been standing nearby coaching him, since in 1872 Muybridge was still something of a novice at operating the very large camera. At least 40 of the 51 were made from camera positions that Watkins had discovered and returned to numerous times. Just a dozen or so were made with the camera in entirely new positions, which shows Muybridge was trying hard to discover new and original viewpoints for the big camera, but he was not able to do so in every instance.

MAN: Can you put into context how much this would change the story of early American photography?

WN: That’s a really good question because the issue that has been overlooked by almost all historians is the incredible leadership and mentoring role Watkins played in the history of photography in California.

He was a genius who created vastly more pictures than anyone else in California of his time:  More than 1,400 mammoth-plate pictures, 5,000 stereographs, as well as dozens upon dozens of daguerreotypes. He had a 40-year career. He was the first photographer in America to use a very large camera and created hundreds of pictures with it up and down the Pacific Coast — about a quarter of which were made in places accessible only on foot or horseback. This kind of intrepid commitment to photography inspired one of his contemporaries on the Whitney survey to call Watkins ‘The Immortal One.’

So the most important thing about the Corcoran’s Muybridge exhibit — and also the recent Timothy O’Sullivan exhibit at the Smithsonian American Art Museum — is that the names of both of the other photographers are to most people today, even to most experts, better known that that of Watkins, whose body of work in quality and quantity is awesome.

MAN: Do you think it likely that we’re looking at a wave of re-attributions away from Muybridge and toward Watkins and possibly others, a re-consideration of a key period of the history of photography in America?

WN: I think that it’s in part the stereographs that would seem to be most open to reattribution, yes. The Yosemite half-plates I think show great potential [for same], as well as those mammoth plate photographs that are on the mounts of Thomas Houseworth & Co. with no indication of who made the negatives, some of which having been attributed over the years to Muybridge based on very little evidence, must also be reconsidered, I think.

A total of 51 pictures were published by Bradley & Rulofson with Muybridge’s name on the mounts. What we know for certain is that Muybridge claimed authorship of those 51 pictures.  They are the most important evidence for the style and character of Muybridge’s vision before the animal locomotion pictures with which he is most frequently identified today. Those 51 pictures published by Bradley & Rulofson should be studied carefully for their stylistic attributes and should be compared item-for-item with images that were made in some of the very same places by Watkins. When this is done I predict Watkins will be proven to be considered Muybridge’s mentor. Art history is all about how the baton of invention is passed from one artist to another. I think in the future a published catalogue of all 51 of Muybridge’s 1872 mammoth plates needs to be prepared and the same for the more than 70 mammoth plate photographs published by Thomas Houseworth & Co. that have not yet been analyzed as to who could have made the negatives. These tools will be essential to get to the next level of understanding regarding mammoth plate photography in California.

Philip Brookman and the several collaborators in the Muybridge project, including Marta Braun, Corey Keller, Rebecca Solnit, Andy Grundberg, left many unanswered questions regarding Muybridge’s development as an artist, but they created a book and exhibition that is a feast for the eyes and full of food for thought.

Tomorrow: Corcoran curator Philip Brookman.

Related: Introducing MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Naef. Part one. Part two. I play detective and find a Watkins-Muybridge too.

Muybridge & Watkins: In which I play detective

In the second part of our Q&A, curator and scholar Weston Naef describes how he discovered an image attributed to Eadweard Muybridge that he says is known to have been taken by Carleton Watkins. (The two pictures are also the first two images in this morning’s post.)

This is not an isolated example. After talking with Naef about Muybridge and Watkins, I surfed my way through both CarletonWatkins.org — a remarkable resource that digitally chronicles known Watkins stereographs — and Calisphere, the University of California’s (free) digital gateway to primary source material. There are about 2,000 Muybridge images on Calisphere, mostly from the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley but also from related repositories.

Using my conversation with Naef as a kind of old-school finding aid, I looked for sequences of Watkins stereographs that had gaps, and that might have related images. This led me to Watkins’ stereographs of Woodward’s Gardens, which Naef later described to me as a San Francisco “zoo and natural history museum along with a botanical garden and eating establishment… a precursor of the public amusement park as we know it today.”

I noticed two things. First, there’s a gap in Watkins’ Woodward’s Gardens stereographic catalogue record. (See screen-capture above.) It’s a pretty specific gap: You can see it better by clicking here and doing a bit of scrolling, down to where the entry says “Museum, Woodward Gardens.” There are numerous images of that ‘museum’ in Muybridge’s Calisphere-accessible archive, including here and here. Interesting.

Next, I found a ‘double’: See the CarletonWatkins.org-documented Woodward’s Gardens Watkins stereograph at left. It’s No. 1628 in Watkins’ Pacific Coast series. (I found it via CarletonWatkins.org, but the link above is to a collection record at The Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley.) Compare this stereograph to the image at the top of this post, from the Lone Mountain College Collection of Stereographs by Eadweard Muybridge, Series 1, Volume 6.  (The volume is also in the collection of The Bancroft Library.) They’re identical — right down to the pose of the man on the steps.

Related: Introducing MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Naef. Part one. Part two. Part three.

A MAN Q&A: Weston Naef on Eadweard Muybridge, part two

Continued from Monday, when I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with curator and scholar Weston Naef. Part one is here. Part three is here.

MAN: That question, about whether Eadweard Muybridge  could have returned to California in 1867 or 1868 with the skills to be a world-class artist, brings us back to the first galleries of the Corcoran exhibition. Suddenly, in 1867 and 1868 we get the stereographs and a couple of other works that open the Corcoran’s retrospective. As I understand it, in the year or so since your retirement from the J. Paul Getty Museum you’ve been spending a lot of time with Carleton Watkins’ stereographs from this same period. While you were reading the Muybridge catalogue you discovered some surprises.

Weston Naef: Yes. I was studying the catalogue and discovered on page 57, figure number 41 an [1872] image of the laying of the cornerstone of the San Francisco City Hall. [Image above: Grand Masonic Ceremony Laying the Cornerstone of the City Hall and Law Courts, 1872. Collection of California Historical Society, Virginia M. Storti Collection. Special thanks to the Corcoran for making this image available.] On the exhibition label and book captions Muybridge is listed as the maker of the work, but in fact we know the stereo negative is by Carleton Watkins, whose authorship is chronicled on the CarletonWatkins.org website, where we see that an Old Series stereograph No. 1614 is known to have been from a negative by Watkins. [See below, click here for full-screen version.] This raises the question of Muybridge’s possible routine use of negatives by Watkins and other photographers during the period when he could have been learning the  craft of photography in California. This matter merits further examination. I do not think that we will find this case to be an isolated example. I predict that list of photographs from negatives Muybridge acquired from other photographers will prove to be lengthy.

MAN: And this led you back to other stereographs?

WN: Yes. I started looking carefully at all the stereographs in the exhibition dated to before 1872 to determine whether any of them could be found to have further association with Watkins or any other photographers and what I have discovered is that especially on ‘wall two’ of the exhibition — if ‘wall one’ consists of the broadsides –  ‘wall two’ merited more examination. It has four of the most spectacular stereographs that have ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives. These are works of definite world-class quality, including ‘The Woodchopper From Behind’ [titled in the exhibition 'The Astonished Woodchopper'], but most importantly, each of those pictures has elements that can be found in other Carleton Watkins stereographs. My prediction is that once the entire Carleton Watkins catalogue of stereographs is studied carefully, paying close attention to the gaps in numbering of Watkins’ series where there is a title for a work and a number in a sequence of the stereographs, but oddly no image has been recorded despite ten years or more of work by scholars and experts, my expectation is that there will be matches found between missing Watkins stereographs and many of the 1867-1871 pictures attributed to Muybridge.

It seems very likely that when Muybridge returned to San Francisco in 1867 that he would have acquired — in the same way he acquired patents and the rights to publish books — he would have used the same kind of method to establish himself in a new business in San Francisco, and that new business would have been as a publisher of photographs rather than as a maker of them. There is no evidence for how in 1868 he could have gained the mastery required to make many of the exceptional small works that are on view in the first several galleries.  The mystery remains:  When did Muybridge perform the 10,000 hours of practice in photography that people who are involved in studying the psychology of learning believe is required to become a world-class master in any subject?

MAN: Gaps in Watkins’ stereographic record appear to be critical here. It’s those gaps that you think may be missing because Watkins sold the rights to or licensed (or whatever the appropriate 19thC term would be) to Muybridge. Can you give us a quick explanation of what stereographic numbering was, and by extension why it is critical to your theory?

WN: Stereographs were among the very first photographs to fit what we generally think of as published works, as works that exist in more than one copy destined for sale to the public. [Photographers typically had] a numbered catalogue from which people – that is, vendors or collectors – could order the stereographs.

So item No. 1 in the list of almost 5,000 stereos that Carleton Watkins created over about 40 years of time is assigned to a work titled, Starting Out, and the picture represents a group of horseback riders posed in a meadow in Yosemite Valley, in the vicinity of Yosemite Falls. (The later  paper versions of the same picture bear the less evocative title, Yosemite Falls.) The sequence tells us that this picture is at the beginning of Watkins’ work in Yosemite Valley.  Based on an engraving we believe it was made before the fall of 1859.

MAN: How many of Watkins’ 5,000 stereographs have been matched to where they fit in the sequence?

WN: I think that approximately 3,000 have the images have been found and are chronicled on the website CarletonWatkins.org, which is a remarkable public resource. About 1,000-2,000 are missing and it appears at this point that Watkins sold hundreds of negatives to other photographers. He sold or traded them to others who issued them over their own names without crediting him, including E. & H.T. Anthony in New York and Benjamin W. Kilburn in Vermont and,  now we find, apparently Muybridge, who was Watkins’ good friend.

MAN: Such a Muybridge-Watkins transaction or transactions would not be anomaly, right? There is documented evidence that they had a long-standing professional relationship.

WN: Right. In 1858 in his San Francisco bookstore, Muybridge expressed his admiration for Watkins by exhibiting in his bookstore a mammoth-plate print Watkins made looking west from Telegraph Hill toward the Golden Gate. We know about the fact Muybridge displayed it from favorable comments published on the occasion in the Alta California newspaper. [Image: Carleton Watkins, Golden Gate from Telegraph Hill, San Francisco. Year unknown. The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, via Calisphere.]

The early close friendship between Watkins and Muybridge is also evidenced when Watkins wrote a collector named Henry Laurencil in 1859. The letter said that Laurencil could pay a substantial amount of money owed Watkins to either Watkins or to Muybridge. So Watkins and Muybridge were well-known to each other long before Muybridge returned to San Francisco in 1867. This close working relationship between Watkins and Muybridge cannot be underestimated and should be taken into consideration  when analyzing the later work Muybridge did in 1872 and regarding motion studies for which he became world famous.

MAN: There are a number of reasons Watkins might have kept certain stereographs and other images and published, sold and/or distributed them under his name, while selling the rights to other images for publishers to sell explicitly not under his name. One of course is the desire or need to make extra money. But there are other reasons, I presume?

WN: Let’s look at a 19th-century artist through the lens of people living in the 21st century and what we know is the behavior pattern of all kinds of artists: In order to stand out, artists typically choose a specific perspective or viewpoint to establish an identity. With his Yosemite pictures in particular, Watkins elected to identify with an interpretation of Yosemite Valley as a pre-Edenic paradise. Remember, he was one of the first visitors there and he understood the magical spell that this beautiful place cast on anyone who visited there. In at least the first five or six years of his time photographing Yosemite, Watkins persistently eliminated any figures from his views of wild nature. He seems to have deliberately excluded figures in all but a handful of his mammoth plate Yosemite views.

But we know from the total body of Carleton Watkins’ mammoth plate work made in places other than Yosemite that he frequently included not just individuals, but large groups of people. He was a master of orchestrating scenes in front of hotels, railroad stations, mines, factories and such that were heavily populated. Also, many of his stereographs are definitely figurative.

It seems that because Watkins first established his identity as someone who was seeing California as a virginal palace, he would have been more willing to part with those [Yosemite] pictures that had figurative elements. Remember, Watkins made many stereographs that were highly figurative: A Fourth of July celebration in 1863, crowds of people in San Francisco in an open square, crowds at the launching of a vessel,   Moreover, Watkins built up an entire body of work of figurative landscape. There’s a common misconception that Watkins was anti-figurative and one of the things that we believe — or believed – that began to distinguish the Muybridge work was the inclusion of figures, especially in the 1872 Yosemite  mammoth plate pictures, where the most notable difference between the work of  Watkins’ and that of Muybridge is the inclusion of a single figure in many of the pictures.

Continued in part three.

Only on MAN: The newest Eadweard Muybridge mystery

Typically when a museum holds an exhibition of a major artist, say Goya, it’s a sure thing that the works on view were indeed made by Goya. After all, the overwhelming majority of artists receiving the retrospective treatment are known quantities whose oeuvres have been studied by scholars for generations. Consensus has emerged.

Not so with Eadweard Muybridge, who is the subject of an extraordinary, first-ever retrospective at the Corcoran Gallery of Art. Curated by Corcoran chief curator Philip Brookman, the exhibition includes more than 300 objects by and related to Muybridge, from stereographs of Yosemite and the Mariposa Grove to Muybridge’s groundbreaking ‘animal locomotion’ pictures and the related equipment, all of which help paved the way for motion pictures. Because this much Muybridge material has never been accumulated in one exhibition before, the show represents a significant opportunity for scholars to examine the oeuvre of a key pioneer of American photography. The Corcoran’s exhibition will travel to London’s Tate Britain in September and then to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in February, 2011. [Image: Eadweard Muybridge, Pi-Wi-Ack (Shower of Stars), Vernal Fall, 400 Feet, Valley of Yosemite, 1872. Collection SFMOMA.]

But: Are all of the pictures in the exhibition by Eadweard Muybridge? In an exclusive Q&A — the first in a new monthly Q&A series, ‘Newsmakers on MAN’ — Weston J. Naef (below), the recently retired founding curator of photography at the J. Paul Getty Museum and former curator of photography at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, told MAN that he doesn’t think so. Naef thinks that many images traditionally attributed to Muybridge are in fact by Muybridge’s friend and rival Carleton Watkins, and perhaps other photographers as well.

Naef is the foremost expert on Watkins and has organized numerous exhibitions of Watkins’ work. Naef’s catalogue raisonne of Watkins’ large-format pictures, titled “Carleton Watkins: The Complete Mammoth Photographs,” is scheduled for publication in 2011 by Getty Publications. Naef’s examinations could lead to a re-consideration of early American photographic history and a new understanding of how the iconography of the American West was made, presented, sold and distributed. The emergent Muybridge debate also provides an opportunity to see both art and American history as its being determined and debated, a real-life art history mystery-in-progress.

“I think that it’s in part the stereographs that would seem to be most open to reattribution,” Naef told MAN. “The half-plates I think show great potential [for same] and those pix that are on the mounts of Thomas Houseworth & Co. that have been attributed to Muybridge have to be reconsidered, I think.” In the MAN Q&A, Naef effectively calls for substantial investigation into Muybridge’s pre-1872 oeuvre, including his stereographs, his pictures of Yosemite, Alaska, San Francisco and more.

Naef explains why he thinks that stereographs attributed to Muybridge were in fact taken by Watkins, who sold the negatives to Muybridge. Muybridge then printed and sold them under his own name.

“I think from what I’ve seen and knowing what I know about Muybridge — and I’m not an expert on Watkins by any mean and Weston is –  I think yes Muybridge published pictures by other people,” Brookman said. “Some by Watkins potentially, but I think Muybridge was also a photographer and a significant photographer.”

Naef told MAN that he made what he believes to be links between Muybridge-published works and Watkins when he read the Corcoran’s catalogue shortly after researching Watkins at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Mass. The AAS organizes its stereograph collection by subject and not by author, so as Naef studied images of San Francisco, he found images published by Muybridge that he believes fit into Watkins’ stereographic sequence.

Brookman acknowledged that a first-of-its-kind exhibition such as his Muybridge exhibition – which has been four years in the making – is likely to raise these kinds of questions, to lead other scholars, curators and historians to new understandings of how history happened. “I think it’s fascinating,” Brookman said. “In fact, there’s just so much we don’t know about all this stuff and for me the real frustration is not having the time to sit down and put all the pieces together. That takes a tremendous amount of time. What I think is that I never really knew Muybridge until the show was on the wall. You do all this research and you look at all this stuff and you have this investigation in your head and on your computer, but you also don’t have it in your head because no one’s done it before. When you’re a curator you don’t really have a show until you look at it all in one place, on the walls. By that point all your research and writing is done and you think, ‘Hmmm. Maybe it’s different [from what we all originally thought].” [Image: Eadweard Muybridge, Progress of Construction, U.S. Branch Mint, 1870. Collection of California Historical Society via Calisphere.]

This week MAN will feature a three-part Q&A with Naef in which he discusses why Muybridge’s early oeuvre should be re-examined. (The first part of our Q&A is published here.) Naef’s argument is particularly focused around Muybridge’s career as a businessman, when Muybridge might have learned photography, Muybridge’s business relationship with Watkins and a different interpretation of research first revealed in the Corcoran catalogue. MAN will also feature a Q&A with Brookman on Muybridge and the emerging historical debate, as well as posts on the work in the show, examples of how Brookman tied certain works to Muybridge, examples of identical images considered to be by both photographers and more.

The June MAN Newsmaker Q&A: